


Belly of the Beast

by CobaltStargazer



Category: Criminal Minds, Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Complicated Relationships, Cops, F/F, PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-01-24 05:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 18,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1592882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltStargazer/pseuds/CobaltStargazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone in the Boroughs is raping and killing teenaged girls. When the Special Victims Unit catches the case, they get assistance from a surprising source. Can dubious sobriety withstand the horror?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, Elle returned to Sex Crimes after resigning from the BAU, and there she became a functioning alcoholic due to lingering trauma. When the story opens, she is two years sober.

"So, what have we got?"

The night was cold, wind pealing off of the Hudson River making the temperature even more frigid. The lights of an ambulance and two squad cars flashed red-blue-red-blue-red-blue. It was December in New York, with only ten days until Christmas. Olivia's breath was visible on the air, and she eyed the sheet that was the center of attention. 

"Sixteen or seventeen, no wallet, no ID," Nick answered from his place crouched near the body. "The ME isn't here yet. We couldn't find a purse, but the search is still on. We might have to wait until morning to continue looking. There's not enough light out here."

"In the morning, the trail could be cold," she said, and her partner looked up at her, squinting against the glare of the strobing lights. It was four a.m., and he'd been called out of a warm bed to the scene. He knew Liv kept the hours of a vampire, but _some_ people at least tried to get a full night's sleep now and then.

The female detective met the look, her shoulders lifting inside her heavy coat. The girl, whoever she might have been, was the fifth victim in the span of two months. All sexually assaulted, all stabbed repeatedly. It looked as if the killer was escalating, and they were no closer to catching him. She refused to apologize for the fact that it was beginning to wear on her.

Still, she did relent a bit when she said, "At least she was found before too much time passed. That might give the ME a chance to discover some trace evidence. Being so close to the river, not many animals could get to her."

"Yeah. Small mercies, I guess."

Nick stood up, grimacing as his slightly stiff muscles protested. He'd been hunkered close to the corpse for a little while, and it couldn't have been much more than twenty degrees. He crossed himself and murmured something. Olivia didn't ask him to speak up. She'd stopped praying years ago.

"You coming back to the station?"

"Yeah, I might as well," she answered, ignoring the slight pang of guilt. She'd left Amanda asleep in bed, answering the call in a hushed voice before getting up so she could get dressed and go. The blonde was going to be pissed off when they saw each other later. No one knew about them yet, and Olivia wanted to keep it that way for a while. "I might catch some sleep in the crib, wait there for the autopsy to be finished. That way I don't have to fight traffic in the morning."

The body was being loaded onto a stretcher, rolled towards the waiting ambulance. When - if - they ever found out who she was, her parents would have to be informed. Nick and Olivia watched with their hands tucked into their pockets, then headed to where they'd parked as the siren started up. 

Just another long, cold night in New York City.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, Greenaway, I think your perp's at it again, only this time in Manhattan. Check it out."

Elle was having her morning caffeine fix when the shouted comment from another detective distracted her from the Starbucks cup in her hand. A newspaper slapped down on her desk, and she put the coffee aside to turn it around and better read the headline. Around her, the squad room buzzed with activity.

_'Fifth Victim in String of Murders Discovered. Manhattan SVU Issues Public Appeal'_

She flipped open the paper so she could peruse the rest of the article, and her eyes had narrowed by the time she'd finished. Five victims and they hadn't reached out to the press before this? The perp must have finally killed someone important enough to matter. Ah, politics, how do I loathe thee, let me count the ways.

Brooklyn SVU was a lot quieter than the BAU, mainly because it didn't involve cross-country travel. After the way Elle had resigned, she hadn't known if she'd be able to get back into any sort of law enforcement, especially with that shooting hanging over her head. But her brief stint at profiling had served her well when she returned to Sex Crimes, and her closure rate was among the top ten percentile for the unit. Which was probably why the brass had seen fit to get her some help when the drinking came to light instead of taking her badge and gun after a perfunctory investigation. Now she was two years sober and didn't touch anything heavier than coffee.

"Greenaway? I'd like to speak with you in my office. Now."

Her chair scraped back when she got up, and Captain Marsden closed the door behind them, shutting out the noise of ringing phones and various conversations. The detective hooked her thumbs through her belt loops. Another copy of the newspaper was on Marsden's desk. The headline blared up at them.

"You think it's the same guy?"

"Unless it's a copycat, yes. Same M.O., same dump pattern. He must have moved to a different hunting ground because something spooked him. Depending on how much the press is holding back, the level of violence in the attacks could be even more extreme."

The older officer sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. "I've made arrangements for you and Starnes to act as liaisons with the Manhattan unit. Pool information, work with them and let them work with you. Get this bastard off the streets."

Elle frowned, shifted her posture. That wasn't the usual procedure. These days she worked behind the scenes to solve cases, not in the public eye. And she liked it that way. She hadn't worked with a team since leaving the BAU. Ryan Starnes had been her partner for several years and they worked well together, had developed a rapport. "Captain, I don't think that's the best plan of action."

"Detective, _I_ don't think it was a request."

Marsden was sitting behind his desk now, and his big hands folded together beneath his chin. His hair was gray and close-cropped. Despite the fact that he was black, he'd always reminded Elle a little of Gideon. Maybe that was why she'd trusted him at least enough to confide in him about her drinking. In the silence, they looked at each other. She couldn't decide if she was pissed because she was the one who blinked first.

"Who do I have to work with?"

"Benson and Amaro. They caught the last body, found some ID once the sun came up. The family's already been informed, so you don't have to worry about that."

"Great."

She sounded so sour when she said it that his stern expression softened a single notch. "Elle. You know I wouldn't do anything to threaten your sobriety. I'd send someone else, but this is _your_ case. Besides, you're our ringer. I wouldn't jeopardize that."

She ducked her head, silently acknowledging the words. Yes, there were days when she still craved a drink, and nights when the old dreams about Garner shooting her plagued her attempts to sleep. But she was clean now, and that mattered. The detective took a deep breath.

"Let me finish my coffee, and tell Ryan we're going to take a drive. If we leave in ten minutes, we can beat morning traffic."


	3. Chapter 3

This was the last time. The absolute Last. Fucking. Time.

The sky was a pale blue, and the sun cast weak warmth on the city as Amanda got out of her car and slammed the door behind her. She had a vague memory of hearing Olivia's phone going off, but it had only sounded once before the other detective took the call. _I should have woken up, not rolled over and gone back to sleep. The phone never rings at past three in the morning for a good reason, not for cops. I should have moved my ass._

She stomped into the station house, grateful for the warmth of the interior of the building. The weatherman had predicted snow in time for the holiday. Amanda was surprised she hadn't had to fight drifts of the white stuff more often. At her desk, she pulled her gloves off with her teeth and removed her coat. She had a hat that matched, but she hadn't been able to find it. 

"Morning, sunshine."

"Knock it off, Fin," the blonde muttered, patting her hair into place to make it more presentable. The wind had been up while she was walking across the parking lot. Her chair creaked as she sat down. He snorted at her remark, crossed the short distance between their desks, and put a cup of coffee within reach. The annoyance vanished from her expression, and she grasped the cup gratefully.

"I take it back, you're a lifesaver."

There was no need to snap at Fin, regardless. He wasn't the one she was mad at, because he wasn't the one who'd left her alone in bed to wake up by herself. Even if she technically _should_ have moved her ass, Olivia could at least have left a note.

"Drink up, there's a briefing in ten minutes. The ME put a rush on the autopsy of that girl they found this morning, and Nick and Liv want to bring everyone up to speed."

Amanda drank the coffee, which was almost too hot. Would Olivia apologize? Probably not. She'd had a murder scene to get to, for one thing, and for another it wasn't like they were girlfriends. Hell, they were barely lovers. It was more like they were people who fucked now and then because they were bored or horny or both. And when no one else knew but the two of them, she couldn't even brag about it. The blonde made a face, slugged back some more liquid caffeine. She should bring her fellow detective a cup tomorrow to pay him back. 

She knew these murders were hanging over their collective heads, and she hoped that the whole sorry business would be cleared up soon. When there was always one more horror story waiting to be told, it kind of started to bleed together. Amanda wasn't as much of a veteran as some of her colleagues, but she'd toughened up out of necessity. 

Now if she could just toughen up to the pint that it didn't piss her off when Liv took off in the middle of the night.


	4. Chapter 4

"The victim's name was Daisy Larson, sixteen. Her mother reported her missing when she didn't come home from the school library. Like the other four victims, she was raped and sodomized, and according to the ME one of the stab wounds punctured her aorta. We're still canvassing for potential witnesses or anyone who might have seen her before she disappeared."

The briefing was halfway over, and the members of the Special Victims Unit were scattered around the room, sitting and standing as Olivia and Nick related the details of the latest killing. Five photographs had been pinned to the murder board, pictures of the girls who had been killed. Daisy Larson's was the last in line. There were muttered comments amid the people assembled there.

"We've issued a community warning to be on the lookout for anyone suspicious, even more than usual," Nick said. "We can only expect that the level of violence will escalate. Whoever our rapist is, he's been more careful before this, but this last girl was brutalized."

"He's devolving."

The female voice cut through the silence following his remark, and several heads turned in Elle's direction. She was still shaking off the cold from outside. She and Ryan had run into a traffic snarl despite their best efforts, and that had delayed their arrival. The room was slightly crowded and smelled a little like dust. A cop smell.

"He's claimed three victims prior to this, all in the same age range. He seemed to be getting more confident, so I don't know why he switched to a different area to hunt."

From her position near the board, Olivia studied the newcomer. She looked close to her age, maybe a little younger. Brown hair cut short, just past her ears, the gold shield on a lanyard around her neck. She looked at Nick with a questioning expression, and her partner offered a shrug that said 'I don't know.'

"Detective Greenaway? I'm Donald Cragen, the precinct Captain here. Glad you and your partner could come in."

"Captain." Elle shook hands with the man when he approached her, felt supremely self-conscious underneath her manufactured calm. But she knew this case, and so she buried the uncertainty and lifted her metaphorical chin. She had an Alpha streak _somewhere_ in there, all she had to do was fake it until she found it.

"Olivia Benson, Nick Amaro, this is Elle Greenaway of the Brooklyn Sex Crimes unit. It seems like your perp is a transplant." 

Olivia recovered first, but she didn't shake hands. She'd bristled a bit at the idea that someone was about to horn in on her turf, but the idea was to solve the case, not get in a pissing match. She had never been a glory hound, and while there was something about the abrupt arrival of the other woman that rubbed her the wrong way, she didn't want to call attention to it.

"We could probably use a fresh perspective on this. I take it you took the first call about a body?"

"Yeah. The first victim was Laura Calhoun. She was fourteen. Compared to what he did to the others, she died easy."

Cragen cleared his throat. "I want the four of you to sit down and share information. Witnesses, potential tips, coroner's reports, everything. If he's deteriorating as fast as you say he is, he'll leave behind some DNA sooner rather than later."

Ryan had come to stand close to Elle's shoulder by now, and when the Captain departed he said, "If you guys aren't finished, we can sit in and get at least a little caught up. Then if there's a place we can talk, we can have a sit down?"

"Yeah, that'd be fine," Nick affirmed, gesturing towards a couple of empty folding chairs. They retreated, leaving Olivia and Elle to finish sizing each other up. Neither of them were certain that they liked the other, but they were also both playing it cool. Police work meant you didn't have to like the person you were partnered with, especially when it was on a short-term basis.

"Welcome to Manhattan."

"Yeah. I'm looking forward to getting this psycho under a prison."

The Brooklyn detective turned when Olivia went back to her previous spot, and before she sat down she caught the eyes of a blonde who was seated near the back of the room. Their gazes locked, and after a few seconds Elle winked at her. Then she took her seat and directed her attention to the rest of the briefing.

Maybe her inner Alpha wasn't that faraway after all.


	5. Chapter 5

"Well. _That_ was interesting."

Amanda had been surprised by the eye contact too. She hadn't even realized she'd sort of been staring until the brunette winked at her. And of course Munch would have noticed it too. That was just the kind of thing that got his brain to spinning conspiracies. She turned in her seat, and his narrow lips were fighting the birth of a smirk.

"Do you know her? Was that a signal?"

"I've never seen her before," the blonde answered with a shrug. This was one of the reason her thing with Liv wasn't out in the open, because people like Munch were always around. Amanda liked John, but he was nosy. He directed his attention to where the briefing had broken up, unfolded his lanky frame from his chair when Olivia motioned for them to come over. 

"You're in luck. Now you get to meet her."

Elle was shifting her weight from her heels to the balls of her feet now that the official meeting was out of the way. The detectives here had clearly done their homework, and with her notes and then some combined legwork they'd be able to widen the canvass and hopefully catch this psychopath before he killed another girl. That would be a nice Christmas gift to herself.

"John, Amanda, this is Detective Greenaway from the Brooklyn SVU," Olivia said by way of introduction. "She and her partner are going to be on loan until we wrap this case up."

"Elle. Nice to meet you."

Up close, the blonde was even more attractive, and also about ten years younger. She didn't know what she'd been thinking with that wink. One of the rules of AA was no relationships in the first year of sobriety, and after those twelve months had passed her social circle had dwindled to consisting of fellow cops and other people she didn't want to sleep with. The dry spell had been long, but going in-house to break it would be a bad idea.

And she didn't like the way the tall, skinny guy was looking at her. It made her feel weird.

"Amanda Rollins." The younger detective smiled politely, then elbowed John lightly. 

"You can just call me Munch. Hearing it lets me know who you're talking to. We've got six Johns floating around here. so It gets confusing."

The brunette - Elle - had the advantage of age and probably experience on her, but Amanda was weighing the look from earlier and doubting it was just a facial tic. And maybe - just _maybe_ \- she brightened up a little. "You were the first to notice the pattern?"

Olivia raised an eyebrow, then gave the blonde a questioning look. It was ridiculous, because it was a perfectly innocuous question, but the way she said it was...something. Maybe it was just her suspicious nature, her distrust of relationships. It wouldn't have been the first time she'd assumed something. "There's an empty conference room we can use to talk," she said, returning the conversation to business. "If you two can join us?"

The little group broke up, Elle and Ryan trailing after the Manhattan cops. Amanda schooled her face into a neutral mask. John was looking at her again. She rolled her eyes in response, brushed past him without a word. 

"Turn off the suspicion machine, Munch, before smoke starts coming out of your ears."


	6. Chapter 6

An open pizza box was sitting on Olivia's coffee table. Four beer bottles were standing like sentinels around the half-empty container. The television was on, a DVD of _Barbarella_ in the player. It was past midnight, and outside a light snow was falling. Olivia had her thigh comfortably trapped between Amanda's legs. They were just beginning to feel the effects of the beers. The blonde had the other woman's shirt half-unbuttoned, exposing the black bra beneath, but she couldn't get the garment completely open because the buttons distracted her from the dry-humpng.

"Fuck, Liv," she rasped, her Georgia drawl more pronounced than normal as the brunette's strong leg flexed against her crotch. Thank Christ it was too cold for skirts, because jeans gave better access _and_ more friction. Long hair tickled her cheeks and chin as the older woman rocked against her. Her fingers closed on a pair of hard nipples through fabric, and then she impatiently bunched the shirt up and cupped Olivia's breasts fully.

They'd been doing this for nearly a year. The attraction had snuck up on Amanda, and at first she'd mistaken it for a sort of hero-worship. Olivia was a damned good cop, and anyone who'd been on the force for as long as she had knew how to stay on the ball. One night she'd put her hand on the small of Amanda's back after they'd had dinner to celebrate a conviction on a particularly tough case, and the next thing she'd known they were Frenching each other while stumbling up the stairs to the blonde's apartment. 

"God, fuck, stop," she said, and Olivia bit down very gently on the place where her neck met her shoulder. This being their own little secret meant they couldn't mark each other where others would see it, although sometimes Amanda was tempted to leave a hickey so dark on the other woman's neck that it would linger for a week. Right now, though, she was just trying to get her shirt open.

The thrusting stopped, and Olivia braced some of her weight on one arm. Her hair was tousled, her mouth a little swollen from kissing. She wanted a drink of beer, because that would give her a chance to catch her breath, but she _didn't_ want to move. She compromised by hovering just on the edge of another thrust. Beneath her, Amanda squirmed.

"Next time, I'll wear a T shirt."

" _Thank you_."

At last, the buttons came undone and the shirt came off, and the blonde ran her hands over tanned skin. She'd never been with a woman before this, and the raw beauty of the female form was still new to her. The movie was still playing. She turned her head and looked for the remote. It was lying on the lid of the pizza box. Hair obscured her vision, and she blew it out of her eyes.

"Let's turn that off and go in the bedroom. The rest of Jane Fonda's adventures in space can wait."

They disentangled, and bare feet skimmed over carpeting as the two of them padded into the other room. The bed was neatly made. Amanda was always a little startled by the order Olivia maintained. Her own place looked like a bomb went off half the time. She sat down on the mattress and pulled her shirt up over her head. Her braless breasts jiggled when she got up on her knees in the center of the bed and started to undo her jeans. Olivia's brown eyes were even darker as she watched her push the denim down past her hips, then shimmy the pants down her thighs. When they reached her ankles, the brunette pulled them off the rest of the way and cast them aside, then started to discard her own clothes.

The springs creaked when the other detective climbed onto the bed, and she sucked and licked her way up Amanda's body as she worked her way towards her mouth. Hair fanned over her breasts when the other woman paused there, tonguing hard nipples while the blonde arched and tugged sharply on dark locks. After a few minutes, she surged beneath Olivia and flipped her onto her back.

"I get to be on top this time."

The brunette laughed, and the sound was swallowed by Amanda's eager kiss. Their tongues met, then started to battle it out. The stuff in the living room had just been the warm up. The blonde slid a hand down a taut stomach, then over a thigh that flexed in response. Their mouths separated with a soft popping noise when questing fingers brushed against dark pubic hair. The hand between Olivia's legs gathered some of the moisture there, then spread it over the hard little bud of her clit.

" _Amanda_..."

Just the way she said it, her voice harsh and raspy, turned the blonde on to an extent she still didn't quite fully grasp. They were not an item, not really. They'd never actually been out on a real date. Sometimes, Olivia even still called her Rollins when they were alone together. But when she called her Amanda like _that_ , she might have been able to fall just the tiniest bit in love with her.

Busy fingers played between the other woman's legs, and the brunette's hips rocked in counterpoint. Tho blonde's mouth was fastened firmly on a spot on her throat, and it was hard not to apply too much suction. "Come on, baby, let it happen," she breathed. Hot breath fanned over that arched neck. One of Olivia's hands was fisted into the bedspread while the other dug into Amanda's shoulder. Teeth closed on a particularly appealing stretch of tendon. The fingers tightened harder.

Inner muscles clenched around invading fingers warningly, then clamped smoothly as the older woman climaxed with a guttural moan. The blonde held on to her as she bucked underneath her. A light sheen of sweat had broken out on their bodies, and when Amanda kissed the hollow of Olivia's throat she tasted like salt. Those pretty brown eyes were half-closed in the wake of orgasm. Her stomach muscles were still trembling.

"Your turn next, I promise."

"We got all night, darlin'," Amanda drawled, shifting her weight. The bed had become rumpled. They were not a thing, were not an 'Us', but whatever this was, it was mostly okay.


	7. Chapter 7

Elle was dreaming about autopsies. 

She'd looked at the black-and-white photographs of the Manhattan victims side-by-side with the ones of the dead girls from Brooklyn, the V-shaped incisions standing out in sharp relief against pale, cold flesh. Eight corpses, eight daughters that would never come home. 

_The feeling of fingers inside her wounds - poking, prodding, probing - is sharp, and from very faraway she can see Garner's face as he looms over her. She knows its him even though he's wearing a surgical mask, because she can see his eyes and he's smiling at her, the son of a bitch. She can still smell the cordite from the gun going off. And then she's the one on the medical examiner's table, the bright light directly overhead. The whine of the bone saw is deafening._

She jarred awake, her heart galloping inside her chest as she groped for the lamp in the dark. She turned it on, then squinted against the glare. Her hand flattened against her stomach, then her ribcage. Checking for injuries. Of course she was perfectly intact, and she tried to make herself breathe normally. The clock on the bedside table said it was two eighteen in the morning. She flopped back down, put an arm over her eyes to block out the light.

"Goddamn it."

Her sponsor had told her that the PTSD was a separate issue from the drinking, that the latter was a coping mechanism for the former and would have to be dealt with on its own. And she was afraid of trying sleeping pills to combat the dreams. Trading one addiction for another was _not_ what she had in mind now that she was no longer pouring booze down her throat on a regular basis. Maybe she should give Karen a call in the morning, let her know she was dealing with the stress of a big case and felt a little shaky.

_Or, there's a liquor store just around the corner and down the block. That's the reason you picked this place back in the day, remember? Because it meant you could pick up a bottle almost any time you wanted it. A drink would let you forget all about this._

"Fuck off. Fuck off and leave me alone."

She should get a dog. Her lease said she could have a pet if she wanted one, as long as she paid a separate deposit and cleaned up after it on walks. If she couldn't get laid, some other kind of companionship would suffice. Elle kicked aside the covers and got up. Her chance for sleep was shot, at least for now. 

In the kitchen, she opened the fridge and studied the leftovers within. She selected the chili in the blue Tupperware bowl, put it into the microwave. She wasn't really hungry, but if she ate it might settle her nerves. Better to eat when she wasn't hungry than to put on some clothes and slog through this miserable weather for a drink. Two years was a long time, and she didn't want to throw all that work away.

The microwave beeped shrilly, announcing that the time had run out. Elle took a spoon out of the silverware drawer, then popped the lid off the bowl and tossed it into the sink. She would eat this, then lay back down and try to sleep. As long as she didn't give in to her lingering craving for alcohol, all was well in her world.


	8. Chapter 8

The monster was in the shadows. The night was clear and below freezing. The snow had stopped falling, but the smell of it was still on the frigid air, which meant there was more on the way. There were five days until Christmas.

Eight streetlamps were posted at regular intervals on the city block. The monster's quarry was bundled into a heavy coat and matching scarf. The bus she'd gotten off of had departed, leaving exhaust in its wake. Despite the city's size, bus travel wasn't always convenient. Not that cars were much better, or even practical. 

She looked behind her once or twice as she walked, then faced forward again. The community alert was out in full force, but it was only eight o clock. And on the surface, the monster didn't look dangerous. So if she recognized that death was approaching, she gave no sign of it. His hands were in his pockets, his brain afire with the endless loop of memories that played in his mind's eye. 

She passed out of the glow of the last streetlamp, the white glare making her shadow long on the sidewalk before it blended into the darkness. The sidewalk was otherwise deserted, the freezing temperatures keeping everyone inside. Footsteps sounded, hurried ones.

The monster caught her just before she rounded the corner, dragged her into the darkness before she could scream. In New York, even when someone heard something, nine times out of then they didn't investigate. He could do his work, obey the compulsion, and be back in his hidey-hole with no one the wiser.

When the flames burned so hot, all he could do was bank them, not put them out.


	9. Chapter 9

"Why wasn't I called?"

Amanda was on the phone at her desk when the angry female voice broke her concentration, and she paused in her note-taking and looked up. Her expression blanked for a moment as she scrambled for a name to go with the face, and then she spoke into the receiver. "Ma'am, let me hand this call over to someone else. They'll be able to help you."

When the call had been re-routed, the blonde said, "We tried to get in touch with you, Detective Greenaway, but..."

"I was in court all morning and had my phone turned off," Elle replied tersely. She was visibly trying to rope in her temper. She'd been giving testimony in a child abuse case as the arresting officer, having hauled in the father of a nine-year-old boy whose mother claimed had been assaulted while on a visit with his dad. Family cases were always the worst. She'd been on the phone with Karen at dawn after she had the autopsy dream. And she hadn't taken a drink.

"How bad was it?"

"Bad enough. We haven't gotten the ME's report yet. One of her neighbors found her in the stairwell outside. Nick and Liv are still at the scene."

"Can you get away? I had to leave Ryan behind so he could testify, and I might need somebody recognizable along so they'll let me past the yellow tape."

Amanda looked at her watch, then shoved her chair back and got up. "Let me tell my captain, and I'll be right with you." She was always glad to get away from her desk anyway, even if it was the dead of winter out there. And this was business.

The ride passed mostly in silence. Elle stared out the window as the buildings flowed past, and Amanda gave up on making conversation after a few monosyllabic replies. The brunette seemed distracted, preoccupied, and not just by the fact that they were going to the latest crime scene. At a red light, she studied the other woman's profile, then looked away when Elle made eye contact.

"What?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking that I hadn't seen you on a case before this. I mean, I know we work in different units and all, but usually the Brooklyn squad helps us out because we're so close by."

"Mmm. I stick close to home, usually. I used to travel a lot, and it made me want to have a home base, somewhere that was familiar."

The blonde wanted to ask why she'd used to travel, but there was really no way to do so without prying. She tapped the steering wheel with her thumbs, piloted the vehicle around the corner.

Elle was kicking herself. She should have left the courtroom after she'd given her statement, then checked her phone. She should have been on the ball. And being alone with Rollins in her car was making her anxious for a reason she couldn't pinpoint. She should have stopped to pick up some coffee.

The ambulance had long since departed with the corpse, and an unmarked vehicle was parked at the curb in front of a brownstone. Amanda beeped her horn when she spotted Nick, and he waved before starting in their direction. Elle was already out of the car, approaching Benson.

Again, the two brunettes studied each other, and Olivia broke the silence when she said, "Her name was Laurel. She was almost home when he caught her. Her tongue was missing."

The former profiler tried to control the shudder, and almost managed it. "Any DNA?"

"There were traces of saliva on her neck and shoulder," the taller brunette replied. "No semen, but this is the first time he's left anything at all behind."

"If he's taking souvenirs, he's reached the point where the kill is more important," Elle informed Olivia. "The rapes might continue, but it will be the murders that give hm the real thrill."

"Are you a shrink as well as a cop?" The Manhattan detective looked dubious, shifting her weight as she stood on the sidewalk. That vague Something, the idea that she might not like the other woman, was niggling at her again. She shoved it aside. The other investigator smiled a little sourly.

"I'm not a head doctor, I just know my business."

"Uh-huh."

"Is there anything can assist you with? I know I should have been here earlier, and I apologize for being unavailable, but the judge I was testifying in front of is really fond of charging people with contempt for leaving their phones on in her courtroom."

Olivia relaxed a bit, the brief moment of oddness passing. "No, I think we have everything covered," she said, gesturing towards where her partner was talking with Amanda by the car. "But if you'd like to wait back at the station for us to come back, we can fill you in on the details then."

"All right, I'll do that. Thanks."

Before she left, Elle went and looked at the spot when the girl had been discovered. There was a reddish blotch on the concrete, one that would take weeks to wash away. Laurel. Her name had been Laurel. She shuddered again.

Amaro was on her way back to the scene as Elle approached Amanda's car again, and she rubbed the back of her neck self-consciously. "Uh..."

"Uh?"

The blonde tilted her head curiously, and the other woman said, "I need to apologize for snarling at you earlier. The case I was in court for was a bad one, the by-product of a bad divorce. The things people do to each other, y'know?"

Amanda nodded her understanding. "We all have those days in this job, believe me. The longer you're at it, the tougher you have to be."

The brunette wondered if Rollins had been through something similar to what she had. Yes, she was younger, but police work could get brutal. She looked down at her shoes, scratched the top of her ear. The snow from a few nights ago still lingered n places, black now with soot and littered with random pieces of trash.

"You want to go get some food?"

Amanda hadn't expected that, and her eyebrows went up. "What, you and me?"

Elle shrugged, self-conscious all over again. "Well, yeah. If you want. Benson said I could come back to the station so they could catch me up, but I don't know how they work, so it might take a while. We don't have to or anything."

The blonde considered it. It didn't _sound_ like 'Will you go out with me?' Sometimes food was just food. Hell, she'd eaten dinner with Fin before. She opened the car door, then pointed at the passenger side of the vehicle. 

"There's a really good Thai place about three blocks from the station. They're usually not busy this time of day, so we can eat and then go. We can talk shop or something."

"Yeah, talk shop. I like to talk shop."

The brunette got in the car, clunked the door shut. Tried not to imagine what her dreams were going to be like that night. Then she looked at Amanda's profile, and a slight smile touched her mouth without her realizing she was doing it. Food might be just food, but it was the human contact that kept the bad things in their corner.


	10. Chapter 10

"Are you trying to date me?"

Amanda hadn't asked the question the first time because it had seemed like she'd be reaching, but this was the fourth time she and Elle had stepped out for food, and the second time it had happened after dark. The brunette had yet to do anything overt, but there was a subtle vibe there. So she'd decided to go ahead and address the subject before the fifth time.

"Um. Maybe."

The two of them were walking back to the blonde's apartment. Elle had insisted on accompanying the other woman to her door. The killer hadn't struck again, but safety in number was never not a good thing. How much of that was rationalizing was a thing she refused to examine. The night was cold. She'd forgotten her gloves back at the car, so her hands were tucked into the pockets of her coat. Every now and then, their shoulders would touch.

Well. That was kind of awkward. Awkward and strangely touching. Amanda hadn't mentioned the thing with Olivia yet, and probably for the same reasons she hadn't asked the question about whether or not an attempt at dating was being made. Now seemed like the time to bring it up.

Instead she said, "It's okay. You don't have to be embarrassed. It's not the first time somebody on the job has wanted to ask me out."

"I was thinking it would be impossible for me to have been the first one. You probably don't date people from work, though."

_Date? No. Screw? Yes._

The blonde frowned, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She wasn't dissatisfied with her quasi-relationship, precisely, but she _did_ wonder sometimes what it would be like to be out in the open with someone. It was close to a year since she and Liv had started sleeping together, and not even in the sweaty, gasping aftermath had the other woman even suggested they go out for a pizza. They'd order take-out and one of them would bring over some beers, then stay in for the night. The sex was great, so good that it was a little scary sometimes, but Amanda did wonder about what else was possible every now and then.

"I'm attracted to you. A lot."

Elle was facing forward, measuring her steps so the other detective could keep up. She'd wanted to say it before, but had kept the conversation on other subjects. Food, movies, the job, some of the places she'd been without giving away too much detail about her reasons for being in those places. Even thinking of going out with someone was a big step, and she'd discussed it with her AA sponsor first. Karen had cautioned her to approach it without expectations, that it was okay to ask for a date but to not take it too seriously if she got turned down. To take baby steps.

Her shoulder was bumped, and when she turned Amanda was smiling at her. Her own mouth turned up at the corners when the blonde said, "I'm flattered. Really. I think you're very attractive."

_Go ahead and tell her, you idiot. She won't be surprised, not after what you just said. Let her down gently, then get on with being friends._

But she didn't say it. And she couldn't explain why.

"Well, this is my stop." They'd reached the front steps of Amanda's building, and the two of them looked at each other. Elle took a deep breath, removed one of her ungloved hands from a pocket. She was in the process of extending it when the other SVU investigator said, "You're not gonna kiss me good night? This is the fourth time we've been out. I think it'd be okay if you wanted more than a hand shake."

_Baby steps. Remember, baby steps._

The brunette's other hand came into view, and she hauled her courage out of its hiding place. Two years was a long time between kisses. The drinking had made her surly and morose rather than promiscuous, and her libido had been almost completely dormant during that time, even when she did pick someone up. But now she was clean and sober and attracted to someone. 

Her palms touched Amanda's cheeks, which were cold. Warmth began to seep into them from her hands. She was wearing a hat, and Elle's fingers touched clean blonde strands. She kissed the other woman's cheek, lingered just a second too long, then kissed her mouth. She kept it soft and sweet, and even kept her tongue out of it. It wasn't time for that yet. 

Amanda hadn't expected her to go through with it, and the fact that Elle was willing to kiss her in public touched her even more than the admission that the brunette was attracted to her. Yeah, it was dark, and it was so cold that everyone with half a brain was inside with the heat running, but in public was in public. She kissed her back with her eyes and her mouth closed, maintaining the chastity of it. When their mouths separated, the silence held for a few seconds.

"Go inside, Amanda," Elle said softly. "It's freezing out here. It'll make me feel guilty if you catch the flu or something."

The younger detective pulled away, moved towards the door. She'd tell her the next time. If there even _was_ a next time. When they caught this guy, there'd be less reason for Elle to show up at the station house. Amanda opened the door, stepped into the lobby of her building. 

The brunette waited until she couldn't see the other woman anymore, almost savoring the cold. She'd taken a tiny step, and it had turned out okay. On the street, traffic passed her by. Elle touched her lips, then kissed her fingertips before blowing the invisible smooch at the closed door. Then she ducked her head and moved off into the shadows. 

Heading home with a good feeling in her stomach.


	11. Chapter 11

Olivia was sitting in her car, staring through the windshield at the night beyond the glass. She was dressed for the cold, and though the heat was running, she could feel a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. The engine was on, puffs of hot air coming from the tailpipe and disappearing into the dark. 

_I should have called first, let her know I was going to drop by. I've come by unannounced before, but maybe just this once I should have picked up the phone._

The brunette continued to watch the silent street, replaying the last twenty minutes. She'd picked up a six-pack of domestic beer at the little store around the corner from her apartment, a brand Amanda liked. She always brought beer, and then they'd send out for food. Sometimes they'd talk, but more often they didn't. Olivia had parked in the lot a block away, then grabbed the carton of bottles and started walking.

They'd been coming from the opposite direction, walking closely enough to each other that she had seen their shoulders bump together. She'd recognized Amanda's hat as one she'd seen before, and she'd nearly raised her hand and called out, believing she could pass off her presence as a regular social call. But the urge to call attention to herself had taken a back seat to consternation, and then something suspiciously like annoyance, when she realized Amanda was with Elle. A watch check proved that it was early enough for it to be harmless, innocuous, but just the same Olivia had paused. The bottles rattled as she'd shifted her posture, watching.

The other two women had stood talking for a few minutes, their voices so low that they couldn't be overheard. Olivia had known that they had gone to get something to eat a couple of times because Amanda had mentioned it, and she hadn't thought anything of it because why should she? They weren't exclusive. Technically, they weren't even together, at least not as far as anyone else knew. Cops hung out with other cops all the time. When you spent most of your working hours with your partner, the chances of that bleeding over into the personal realm were pretty good. And Greenaway had been dropping by the station almost every day because of the case she was helping out with.

Still, when she saw the kiss, Elle taking Amanda's face in her hands before making contact, Olivia had almost broken her silence and made herself obvious. And the blonde must have kissed back, because it had gone on for a little too long for to to have been one-sided. Then she'd gone inside while the other brunette remained on the sidewalk, and then she moved off into the shadows and down the street.

_Well, at least now you know why you don't like her._

Olivia banged the steering wheel, and the horn beeped sharply. She couldn't articulate what she felt, not even to herself. She'd kept this casual deliberately, and just the idea that it was something deeper was a thing she couldn't begin to think about. She wasn't deluding herself into believing she'd fallen in love with Amanda, and the other detective hadn't even mentioned the possibility of getting more serious. If she'd wanted someone else, she'd have said so, wouldn't she?

_Maybe she did and you didn't hear her. You don't exactly have the world's greatest track record for listening when you should._

She should have said something, announced her presence. She _could_ go knock on Amanda's door right now, see if there was an explanation to be had. One kiss didn't mean she should go to Defcon 5.

_Uh huh. And the two of you ended up in bed because you touched the small of her back randomly. A kiss is not random._

The brunette put the car into reverse, backed out of the parking spot she'd claimed earlier. She wasn't going to make herself ridiculous by demanding explanations. She would go home and put the beers in the fridge, then turn in early. One early night wouldn't be the death of her.

Next time, she'd call first.


	12. Chapter 12

"You're in a good mood today. You must be, you've never beaten me before."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

The temperature had risen to an unexpected forty degrees. Ryan and Elle had just finished their two mile run around the public track in Wingate Park, and were now doing their cool down stretches. She wasn't sweating as much as she would have been if it had been the dead of summer, but there was a slight dampness at the base of her spine. It had been a good run, and this _was_ the first time she'd reached the unofficial finish line before her partner did. They'd worked together since she first came on board in Brooklyn seven years ago. He came from a family of cops and was engaged to a dispatcher from Queens.

"C'mon, give," he prodded, uncapping the bottle of water at his waist and drinking some of the cool contents. The weatherman was again predicting snow, but right now the sky was clear except for a thin layer of cloud cover liberally broken up by expanses of blue. "Something's put a spring in your sprint, what is it?"

She looked beyond the track at the street, still doing leg stretches. Her calf muscles ached pleasantly. The air was crisp but not frigid. She hadn't planned to tell him or anyone, out of paranoia that she'd jinx herself. But after a minute, she relented enough to say, "I kind of had a date the other night."

Ryan's eyebrows went up, and Elle flapped a hand at him. "It was only _kind of_ a date. We went out and got something to eat, and I walked her to her door. It's not a big deal."

Not that she hadn't replayed that kiss in her memory a few times. More than a few. She felt confident enough in her sobriety to take this chance now, and she wouldn't have been before. Even with the stress of this case, finding a little possible happiness was something she was inching towards. Maybe next time she saw Amanda, she'd just ask the damn question.

As if he'd read her mind, the male half of the pair said, "I think you should go for it. Be careful, but take the leap. I've seen the work you've done on yourself, and the effort has paid off. It might be time for a little reward."

"She's on the job."

Elle said it in a low voice, deliberately crouching down to futz around with a shoelace that was already securely tied. She'd mentioned it to the other detective before, that she'd never date someone she worked with, even if there were a few degrees of separation between them. Ryan made a diplomatic noise, stretched his arms up over his head.

"Well, people change their minds sometimes. When I asked Angie out the first time, her dad took me aside and made sure I knew what I was doing. And _my_ mom gave me the same speech when I told her I'd put a ring on Ange's finger. It can work if you want it to. But you gotta try first. If you don't try, nothing happens."

"Thanks, Ry. It matters that you'd say that." She'd straightened up now, and she bumped his shoulder with her own. The fact that he had been there when she'd started to rebuild, reclaiming her life from the fucked-up mess it had become, made him a good sounding board. She tried not to abuse the privilege, but if she really needed an ear, he was willing to listen.

"You want to do a couple more laps?" she asked, pointing ahead of them. If it snowed , they wouldn't be able to use the track again until it melted. "I'll go easy on you this time," she added a little snarikly. "But since you lost already, you have to buy the coffee when we're done."


	13. Chapter 13

The traces of saliva on the last victim's neck and shoulder had been analyzed, and the resulting DNA had been run through the system. This was the first time the killer had slipped up and left even a trace of anything behind. Nick picked up the names of the possible matches and studied them.

"Sixteen possibles, four with records, and two of those with convictions for rape under their belts," he said. Olivia was drinking water while sitting on her desk and looking at the murder board. The ninth picture had been added to the previous photographs. "The two without records are the ones we should probably start with" he offered,. "If we get the unlikely suspects out of the way first, it'll be easier."

The older detective nodded, hauled herself up into a standing position. Thank God for advances that allowed really exacting tests of potential evidence. She claimed the list from the spot where her partner had set it down, glanced at her watch.

"You want to drive or should I?"

"We should call Greenaway first. She and her partner should be in on this. Unless they're in court again, they can take half of these names and we'll get it done in half the time."

Olivia paused, and she tried not to make a face. She hadn't seen the other detective since she'd arrived at the last crime scene, and she had yet to speak to Amanda about what she'd witnessed the other night. So she didn't really want Elle around right now, thank you.

But Nick was already on his cell punching in the number, so she resigned herself to Greenaway's presence. Being on an active case meant that personal concerns had to be set aside. Even if one of those concerns was someone hitting on your not-girlfriend. Rollins was out dealing with another matter right now, anyway. 

It took Elle and Ryan a little while to make the drive, and when they got there the four detectives had a quick conversation about who should go where. To Liv's annoyance, the two guys decided to go together, leaving her with the other brunette. "It' be better for the out of towners to learn how we do things," Nick said with a chuckle, "Then you drive," Ryan replied. "Manhattan traffic gives me gas."

For Elle's part, she'd done a quick check inside for Amanda and hadn't seen her, so she was ready to get this show on the road. She felt focused and motivated and ready to work. She didn't want any more victims in this case.

She and Benson got in her unmarked car, pointed the vehicle towards the first address. Olivia had to admit to herself that she was curious to see how Elle would handle questioning. Information-gathering techniques varied, especially outside of the interrogation room. Getting someone in the box was different than catching them at home, and she wanted to see if some of the new dislike would subside if the other brunette acquitted herself well.

Most of it proceeded accordingly. The people they spoke to were more or less forthcoming, providing their whereabouts or the name of someone who could verify where they'd been. As the two investigators worked, the neighborhoods got a little seedier, a little more rundown. And the people more distrustful of cops.

The last possible suspect's name was Victor Kostichek, who was on the sex offender's list after two convictions for statutory rape. He lived on the fourth floor of a building with no elevator. The stairwell smelled like spilled wine and old grease. Their footsteps echoed. 

"No matter what city you're in, all of these places have the same stink." Elle's voice was a mutter.

"I think they call it Early Renaissance Slum." Olivia was a bit surprised at the attempt at humor, and at the way the other detective snorted out a laugh.

They had to knock three times because the television inside the apartment was turned up loud, and finally a male voice yelled, "Keep ya friggin' hair on, I'm comin'!" The set was turned down a notch, and when the door opened a man in his early forties glowered at them. Kostichek was a short little barrel of a man with black hair lightly peppered with gray. He was wearing work pants and a shirt with his name on it. His dark eyes were close-set. Before either woman could offer their badges for inspection, his jaw tightened.

"Cops, huh? Somebody get raped?"

"Who said anything about rape, Mr. Kostichek?" Olivia asked smoothly, studying him with a bland expression.

"Cops don't come around here for good reasons," he answered sullenly. One hand curled around the doorjamb. He had prison tattoos on his knuckles and more black ink designs disappearing under the arms of his olive-drab shirt. Elle was already mentally measuring him up for a kick to the solar plexus. Why did these fucks have to be so surly?

"Could you turn down the television?" she asked, going for 'polite' and ending up in the zip code of 'curt'. "I can barely hear myself think, and unless you want to have this conversation in front of your neighbors, we should step inside."

The ex-con snorted, let go of the doorjamb and moved back from the door. "C'mon in," he said sarcastically. "I love company."

The interior of the apartment wasn't much better than the hallway. Once the television's volume had been turned down, they could hear a baby crying through the thin walls and shouting from another apartment. Victor dropped his weight onto the old couch. 

"That's why I keep it turned up, so's I don't hafta listen to that."

"Where were you at around eight o'clock Sunday night?" Liv asked, deciding to remain standing. This whole place could use a good steam-cleaning.

"Work."

"Where do you work?"

"At a salvage yard. I'm the night shift guy. Keep people from climibn' the fence to get in and steal copper wire."

"They let _you_ work security?" Elle broke in, her voice dubious. He swung his beady gaze in her direction.

"Why not me?" he asked pugnaciously. "I got a right to work for a livin'. My brother-in-law gave me the job 'cause nobody would hire me after I got out."

"You're a rapist, Mr. Kostichek," Olivia said, using the word 'Mr.' with more than a little contempt. "That's why you're in the system, remember?"

Silence. The unseen baby had either gone to sleep or been given a pacifier. The shouting in the other apartment could still be heard, though. Victor was beginning to look mulish.

"I don't do that no more." He was looking at the grimy window that offered a view of the street. "I'm in therapy now, getting counseling. I talk to my priest. I don't have those thoughts anymore."

"Hey. Asshole."

It was Elle's voice, and the clipped tone had the other two people in the room snapping their attention towards her. Her posture was loose and relaxed, but her expression had narrowed, grown a little cold. No matter where you went, they all sounded the same. It was like the way the smell and look of places like this never changed, an irrefutable fact. The few exceptions only served to prove the rule.

"Spare us the 'I'm a good boy now' crap, okay? You're already a two-time loser, and if you crank up some act about how remorseful you are, I'm probably going to be insulted. Now we've got a bunch of dead girls here, and you're one of the DNA matches. So you better start talking."

Liv cut in, or tried to. "Detective Greenaway, I was handling this."

"Get out of my apartment." Victor's voice had flattened out, and his legs flexed as he got up to point towards the door. "You don't have a warrant, and I invited youse in so's the friggin' neighbors wouldn't see ya. Now get out."

The two of them at least managed to get the name of Kostichek's employer so that they could make contact and check his alibi. The stairwell seemed even more stifling on the descent as it had on the climb. Olivia was torn between hostility and incredulity. For a second there, it was as if Elliot had made an appearance, reaching across the ether to speak with Greenaway's voice. 

"What was that?" she asked once they were back on the sidewalk. 

"That was cage-rattling 101." Elle was crouched down on the cracked concrete, re-tying her shoelace. She was cranky. The late morning had stretched into early afternoon, and that prick in there had pissed her off. 'I talk to my priest.' How much of a sin was it to lie to a man of the cloth? Was it a cardinal one, or just venal? "They don't usually have enough sense not to talk without a lawyer, though."

"Look, I know you've been assigned to this case by your Captain, and I appreciate the effort you're making, but Manhattan isn't Brooklyn. Amaro said you should learn how we do things here, so if we go out questioning people again, let me handle it, okay?"

_And leave Amanda alone._

Elle had never liked being told how to conduct herself in the field, and it showed. Back when she worked with the Bureau, Gideon had told her that her biggest flaw was her impatience, and that she should correct the situation. The toe of her newly-tied shoe drew an invisible line on the sidewalk as she arranged her features into a polite mask. "Your house, your rules."

_And kiss my ass, sister._

They drove back to the station largely without talking. Amaro and Starnes hadn't come back yet. Elle told Olivia, "The way I see it, we've got at least one probable out of those possibles. Innocent people don't throw the cops out just because of some attitude getting thrown their way. Maybe Kostichek didn't do this, but he's probably got _something_ to hide."

Privately Olivia agreed, but she couldn't allow herself to concede the point. "Maybe we'll go back later. I doubt he's going anywhere. As long as you don't go stomping in like a bull in a china shop, we might get somewhere next time."

They both spotted a familiar head of blonde hair at the same time, and Amanda trundled past them with Fin trailing behind her, both of them offering muttered hellos. Elle's posture tightened, then relaxed, her aggravation momentarily subsiding. 

"Hey, Rollins, wait up!"

Olivia watched the other brunette break into a jog, and she jammed her hands into her pockets as she watched her catch up to Amanda. It was probably really adolescent of her, but it was the openness with which Elle approached Rollins that was her biggest peeve. Since Alex left again, she'd become closed off, letting people in only a bit at the time. When it always felt like you were on the verge of losing someone, you learned to keep yourself guarded. 

Even when you'd rather not.


	14. Chapter 14

"Hey, Rollins, wait up!"

Amanda heard the voice, and she motioned for Elle to join her as she went into the building. The other detective caught up to her, held the door open with her foot. The blonde saw Olivia's look and ignored it. She was allowed to have a conversation if she felt like it.

"Is there a break in the case?"

"Sort of. Some names came up after the drool the guy left behind was tested. The last guy Benson and I talked to seems right for it."

"Well, that's great. The sooner this lunatic gets locked up, the better."

"Look, uh..."

Elle shifted her weight, took stock of what she was doing. Amanda's green eyes were clear and cool. This felt like the most exposed place in the world.

"Can I talk to you in private? There's too many people around for me to do this."

They ended up in an unoccupied interrogation room. Amanda made sure the intercom was turned off. Elle took up some space on the table. Her feet dangled a few inches above the floor.

"I was wondering if you'd want to go out some time. On an actual date."

And the blonde had expected that, had been waiting for it. And she'd been trying to prepare the words to let the brunette down gently. The attention was very flattering, and it was nice to know that someone was willing to acknowledge her in the workplace beyond talking about whatever hideous thing people managed to do to each other. But she _was_ semi-involved. 

"Where would you want to go?"

"I don't know, someplace decent. A nice restaurant, maybe a movie." In Elle's opinion, it wasn't a date unless there were table cloths involved, and if she liked somebody, she wanted to offer a proper setting. Her feet swung back and forth. Amanda's sharp cheekbones made her eyes even more arresting. Now that she was within two feet of her, she couldn't stop thinking about the press of that warm mouth.

_God, would you just tell her already? It's not fair to lead her on when you know she's interested in you. Don't hurt her feelings, but make yourself clear._

"I like seafood. And pasta. Pasta with seafood is even better." _You're a terrible person._

Elle's shoulders visibly relaxed, and she pushed her hand through her longish hair. "Can I get your number so I can call you at home? We can arrange a time later, while you're not working. I gotta get back anyway. But I'll call you."

Amanda wrote down her home number and handed the slip of paper to the other detective. It was only cheating if you were in a relationship, right? It wasn't like they were going to _do_ anything. One dinner didn't mean she was planning to get naked with Elle. The blonde shoved even the notion aside.

"Give me a call," she said as she opened the door to let them both out. "If you can't reach me, the machine's always on."

The brunette nodded, trying to rope in the smile. She saw her partner step into the building with Amaro close behind him., and she lifted a hand in greeting. The same hand brushed Amanda's shoulder, and then she moved away. She had a little money set aside, funds to splurge with. 

This might be a baby step, but considering how few steps shed actually taken lately, it felt like a pretty major one.


	15. Chapter 15

"I want you to know, I had a really good time tonight."

"Yeah. Yeah, me too."

Elle and Amanda were on their way to her apartment building. Despite what the movies said, New York parking meant that there was not always a convenient spot right in front of where you were going.. It was past one in the morning. They'd gone out for Cuban food, and there had been live music inside. The brunette had decided against a movie, but they'd closed the place at the restaurant they went to. She was finding herself thoroughly smitten with the other detective.

To kiss her good night or not?

Amanda was conflicted. She couldn't remember the last time she'd talked for so long, without the aggravation of somebody hitting on her all through dinner. Not that there wasn't a vibe there, because there was, but Elle had refrained from saying or doing anything overt. Back in her old precinct in Georgia, she'd made mistakes with her relationships, and one of the reasons her thing with Liv was mostly okay was that they didn't put expectations on each other. But having had an honest-to-God date, she _did_ wonder what it might be like to pursue something more.

"Well. Here's my stop."

"Looks like it."

Elle waited, listened to the sounds of the city around them. Before she fucked her life up, she'd been a lot more confident about this sort of thing. Now she was cautious, a little afraid of making a mess of things. She was wearing leather gloves with fur lining. The night was clear and cold. She and Amanda were the same height.The silence became expectant, and the blonde's mouth twitched.

"You're dyin' to kiss me, aren't you?" 

There was no ego in the question, just gentle teasing. Elle laughed nervously, then nodded. "Kinda," she admitted. She inched into the other woman's space, and her gloved hands cupped the blonde's well-defined cheekbones.

The kiss was soft, but there was a thread of something urgent underneath it. Inside her shoes, Amanda's toes curled. Her hands found their way to the other woman's forearms. They stood there in that bubble for what felt like a very long time.

The former profiler broke the contact, took a half-step backwards. "Good night, Amanda."

She had turned and was about to walk away, but the blonde said, "Would you...would you like to come upstairs? I know it's late, and you probably want to get home, but...I dunno."

The brunette weighed her options, then faced the other woman again. "I'd like that, but only for a few minutes."

The lobby was painted white, but it clearly hadn't seen much upkeep in a while. There were two folding chairs and a cheap table just inside, some old magazines scattered across the surface. Their footsteps echoed. Elle was trying to keep from getting her hopes up.

Amanda's apartment was the last one at the end of the hall, and for once it was mostly picked up. Yesterday had been laundry day, and she'd bought groceries and put them away. She took off her coat and dropped it on the couch. Pointed towards the kitchen.

"You want a drink? I've got beer, but I might have something stronger if you want that instead."

Elle had taken off her coat and was looking for a place to put it, and when she heard the question she froze for a second with the garment in her hands. That was one of the few things she and Amanda _hadn't_ talked about over dinner. The restaurant had served sangria and mojitos, and she'd ordered the hot tea. The blonde had had two mojitos. She looked up at the ceiling, as if the words she needed would somehow be above her head.

"I can't drink," she finally said. She had to raise her voice a little because Amanda was in the kitchen. She could hear glass rattling against glass.

The beers turned out to be nestled amid the contents of the vegetable crisper for some reason, and the blonde retrieved one bottle before poking her head into the other room. "You don't drink?" 

"No, I mean I _can't_ drink." Elle had put her coat on the back of the couch and lowered her weight onto the cushion. She was looking at the other woman with a rueful expression. Counting down, three, two, one...

"Oh." The Manhattan detective looked down at the bottle in her hand as comprehension dawned, and she had wondered why Elle hadn't ordered alcohol when they'd eaten. " **Oh.** God, I am so sorry, you must think I am so insensitive." She immediately disappeared back into the kitchen, and came back thirty seconds later without the beer. "I was wonderin' why you didn't ask for a drink with dinner."

"It's okay," Elle said with a shrug. "I quit drinking a couple of years ago, earned my sobriety chip. Sometimes its a struggle, but it worth it to stay clean."

Amanda took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. She was impressed by the candor. Alcoholism was a common disease for cops, especially the ones who worked among really seedy types. Sex Crimes might have even topped Vice for the percentage of elbow benders. "I'm glad you told me. Now I won't put my foot in it again."

"Rollins." Elle's tone had changed, become more intent, and she touched the blonde's leg just above her knee. "It's fine. Really. Sometimes even Ryan would slip up when I was first trying to get sober. He'd forget and offer me a whiskey because he was so used to seeing me with a glass in my hand that knowing I had a problem wasn't the first thing he'd think of. I'm an alcoholic, and it's on me not to accept that drink, not on others not to offer it."

The warmth of the brunette's palm could be felt through the other woman's jeans, and Amanda smiled a little bashfully. She touched the back of Elle's hand, took in the unusual attractiveness of her face. 

And it was easy to tell her about the drinking, because the drinking was the least of it. Amanda didn't know the _really_ bad things. The things she couldn't fix. Or take back. Elle gave the blonde's lower thigh a gentle squeeze. She'd scooted closer on the sofa.

"You're so pretty." The brunette's vice was thoughtful. "I haven't had a date since I dried out, but I'm really, really attracted to you right now."

Amanda opted not to ay anything. It would have been too complicated. Instead she leaned across the short distance and kissed Elle on the cheek. And then on the mouth. And didn't move away when the brunette puckered up and kissed back. 

The phone rang. They were still touching, but the mouth-to-mouth contact had stopped. Elle's forehead was resting against Amanda's brow. "Phone's ringing," the brunette said. "Let the machine get it." The blonde touched the other woman's jawline. Elle kissed the heel of her hand.

"Hey, Amanda, it's Liv."

The female voice broke the moment. Amanda had forgotten she'd left the volume turned up on the answering machine so she could screen her calls. "I was in the neighborhood, wanted to know if I could swing by. I've got some beers if you want them. Call me on my cell if you feel like hanging out."

By the time the voice stopped talking, Elle had retreated to the other end of the couch. She scratched a spot on her chin, looked at the silent television set. Felt stupid. Stupid and ridiculous. After a short silence, she got up from the couch and moved into the kitchen. She wasn't sure where to put herself after that.

Amanda let the silence hang wile she gathered her thoughts, A semi-baleful glance was turned in the direction of the now-silent phone. She blew out a breath and got to her feet.

"I'm sorry, Elle. I should have told you."

"I should have asked. It didn't even occur to me."

The brunette was looking at the clock on the wall. The unopened beer was on the kitchen counter. She put it back in the fridge to give herself something to do. Tried not to feel too much resentment.

"You and Benson, huh? She seems..."

 _What? She seems what, you imbecile?_ "You guys seem to match up really well."

The blonde was pissed at herself. And a little bit pissed at Olivia. When had the other woman ever called before? Usually she just dropped by. Of all the lousy times to announce herself....

"I should go." Elle's voice was neutral, and if she blamed anyone, she blamed herself. Of course Amanda would have something going, and even if she didn't, why would she want a former drunk with _Issues_? She'd taken this small step, made some progress, and that was enough. Her sigh was quiet, resigned.

"Can I walk you downstairs?"

"It's late. You should get some sleep." _And I need to be alone_.

Amanda accompanied Elle to the door, and the two of them locked eyes for a second too long as the brunette paused just beyond the threshold. The blonde smiled sympathetically. 

Elle's mouth quirked, and then she kissed the other woman properly. With just a hint of tongue, a flick between another female pair of lips that only lasted a second. Amanda's toes curled again. The brunette sure knew how to do a lot with a little.

"Get some sleep. Or have fun with Benson. Whichever comes first."


	16. Chapter 16

"You didn't call me back."

Olivia said it in a low voice as she put a cup of coffee on Amanda's desk, and she perched close by. The morning outside was gray and cold. Not many people were around because it was shift change, and Cragen had disappeared into his office ten minutes ago and closed the door. The blonde was going over some papers when the other woman approached her, and she looked up from her work when Liv occupied the space close at hand.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry. It was late and I was in the middle of something when you called."

Was it fair that she was considering changing the rules without having given Olivia a warning? Amanda didn't know. But she'd done some thinking after Elle left, and she'd come to the tentative decision that she didn't want to put whatever might be happening with the other brunette on a shelf. Part of it was that she hadn't pushed last night, had immediately backed off from a possible make-out session after hearing Olivia's voice over the answering machine. The other half of it was the confession about the drinking. Given Amanda's own addiction issues, Elle's openness about her alcoholism made her seem brave. They were still relative strangers, and she could have kept the information to herself in the hopes that it wouldn't make her look bad.

_Nice one, Rollins. You're thinking about going out with her again because she might be as fucked up as you are?_

"Something or someone?"

Olivia's voice was neutral when she said it, but she regretted the words as soon as she uttered them. That was the reason she'd called in the first place, to avoid any awkwardness. Or risk running into Greenaway by just showing up. Still, she had no right to question what Amanda might do when they weren't together. Or who she might do it with. Jealousy was not a good look on anyone.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Amanda's fair eyebrows lifted a notch, then lifted higher. _Say it. Say it out loud. Admit that something's going on._ Was that another thing pulling her towards Elle, the idea that she could goad Olivia into acknowledging her somehow? She maintained the eye contact, though.

"Just that you might have had...company," the older detective answered uncertainly, her brows knitting together. Amanda hadn't seen her the night she'd spotted her with Elle, she was sure of that. It was only her stubborn unwillingness to vocalize her unease over the knowledge that kept her mouth shut. If she admitted it, it would probably become a 'thing', and she wasn't sure she was ready for it to become a 'thing'.

"I just thought you would have appreciated a heads up instead of me swinging by," she added, tucking her hands into her pockets. "I thought the way things were was fine, but maybe you've changed your mind."

Amanda broke the stare, because if she didn't she was going to roll her eyes. Then again, it was probably the closest thing to an admission she was going to get right now, so... "She left after you called anyway. It kinda killed the mood."

"I _see_."

Anything else Liv might have said was derailed when Nick arrived in the squad room. He was bundled up against the cold, a travel mug of coffee in one gloved hand. "It's gonna snow before the day's out," he announced. "Weatherman's guaranteeing it."

"Then I'll make this brief."

Elle was trailing behind Amaro, having come in from Brooklyn with information. She had called Ryan to see if he'd join her, but he'd said he was taking a personal day to look at apartments with his fiancee'. He was still assigned to jointly work on the case, but with the perp apparently having picked Manhattan as his new hunting ground, he'd been granted some leeway.

Amanda was drinking the coffee Olivia had brought her by then, and she smiled when she saw the Brooklyn detective. Liv did not smile, but she managed to keep the scowl at bay.. Elle parked her butt on Fin's unoccupied desk. 

"We've got a potential witness," she said. "A food truck operator came forward and said that she might have seen something when one of the earlier victims was taken. I took her statement, got her contact information in case you want to follow up."

"She waited until now to say anything?" Olivia asked dubiously. Yes, even the possibility of a witness stepping forward was a good sign, but the credibility of said witness might come into question after such a protracted silence. 

Elle made steady eye contact with the other brunette, arched one eyebrow. "The lady in question is a sixty-eight year old grandmother who was closing up for the night. It was dark and she was alone because her husband went around the corner for a pack of cigarettes. I questioned why she didn't come forward sooner myself, but I believed her when she said that at the time she was scared shitless. She might have tried to forget about it. Some people do that."

"Thanks for coming in, Detective," Nick interjected. "It would have been less trouble to call, but it's appreciated that you'd make the trip."

"Why _didn't_ you just call?" Liv had gotten to her feet and moved into her own work space, where case files and other paperwork waited. "If it does snow, you could get stuck halfway home."

 _Oh, bite me_ , Elle thought, but her shoulders went up and down in a complacent shrug. "I couldn't get any bars on my phone. I think the satellites must have been out of whack all morning, because the reception in the whole building was shot to hell."

"Do you play pool?"

Amanda's voice was offhand when she spoke up, and she was back to examining her papers before looking up again. Her gaze flicked over to Olivia, then back towards Elle. She wasn't sure of what she was playing at, but she proceeded anyway.

"Me?" Elle knew there had been no real reason to make the drive into Manhattan, that she _could_ have called later. She nodded slightly, ignored the aggravation she could feel coming off of Benson in waves. "Yeah, sometimes. I'm not great at it, but I pick up a cue now and then. Why?"

"I was wonderin' if you'd want to shoot a few games with me at some point," the blonde said lightly. If the weather doesn't get too bad, I mean. We could get some dinner, then go to this place I know and take up one of the tables. Make a date of it."

_There is a God. There is a God, and She loves me._

"I'd like that." Elle could feel Olivia's eyes drilling into the side of her head like lasers, and she forced herself not to smile too wide. Whatever was gong on with Amanda and Benson, it couldn't have been _too_ serious. "I probably should get out of here within the next ten minutes, but you've got my cell number. If I've got reception, I'll pick up. If not, just leave a message and I'll get back to you."

Amaro felt as if he'd walked into a play in the middle of the second act, because the tension had gone from zero to fifteen in the space of two minutes. He'd never heard Rollins use the word 'date' in pretty much any capacity, and Greenaway had looked far too pleased for a second there. Liv had gone back to her files, but she was dealing with them with more concentration than usual. Nick looked down at the mug in his hand, then decided that this was something he didn't want to think about. He excused himself from the immediate vicinity with a mutter that the other detectives barely acknowledged.

Right in front of her. _Right in front of her_. Olivia was seething inwardly at Amanda's gall, but she knew she only had herself to blame. The blonde had practically dared her to speak up, and she hadn't done it. Elle had abandoned her spot on Fin's desk, was pulling her coat closed in preparation for facing the chill outside. "Call me, okay?"

"I will," Amanda said with a nod. She watched the brunette leave the squad room, and she just _might_ have memorized the sway of those slim hips for later examination in private. When the Brooklyn detective was out of sight, she went back to her paperwork without so much as a glance at Liv. She wasn't planning to call things off, but she _was_ going to explore other options if she felt like it.


	17. Chapter 17

It did end up snowing. 

It only snowed a little, not as much as the weatherman predicted, but it was enough to make the streets impossible. Olivia watched the white stuff drift down, lightly covering the parked cars at the curb. She'd thought about calling Amanda just to talk, but she was still stung by the blonde more or less throwing in her face asking Elle out for an actual date. Torn between anger and self-doubt, she stayed away from the phone, but she wasn't happy about it.

_You could have said something. Whatever you think of her, Greenaway's probably not out to get you. And if you **don't** say anything, she might end up getting Amanda. You'll be even less happy with that._

Maybe she and Rollins should have set some ground rules at the outset. Or at least discussed the possibility of 'What if', the chance that a third party would display interest. If she'd been prepared for this, it wouldn't be such a problem.

At least the snow would keep Amanda indoors that night. Was it selfish to want to keep this just between the two of them? Olivia didn't like possibly being made to step forward and declare herself, but if the other woman felt like she wasn't getting something she needed, maybe things should change. Alex's leaving had hurt, but she couldn't cling to that memory forever.

Outside, the snow continued to fall. The brunette decided to go to bed early, and if she could get to work in the morning, she would have a private talk with Amanda. If it came down to it, she would take Greenaway aside and _they'd_ have a talk. They were adults, and adults should be able to talk to each other. Liv didn't want to get all schoolyard on the other detective, and maybe some ground rules should be set regardless, but making herself clear - on both fronts - would be a good start.

She was a grown woman. That meant she could do this. Even f she didn't _quite_ want to.


	18. Chapter 18

Once the city's plows had done their work, turning the snow into dirty drifts, Elle was able to get to work more or less on time. Like any self-respecting New Yorker, she was confident that she could handle the roads, but getting into the office was difficult when everyone else in traffic seemed at a loss. The sky was gray and overcast. She pulled her coat tighter around herself as she moved towards the building.

The squad room was bustling as she took a seat at her desk, and she was about to go through her messages when she heard Captain Marsden's voice over the murmur of voices and ringing phones. She glanced up from her coffee, saw him gesturing at her, and began to rise from her chair.

"I need to see you and Starnes in my office before you do anything else."

Her partner, who was just finishing his McDonalds' breakfast, trailed after her, and once the door was closed the older officer said, "We've got another victim. They found her this morning at around four. On a playground six blocks from the station."

The bottom dropped out of Elle's stomach, and she lowered her weight into a chair after reaching behind her to make sure she could sit down and not fall down. "How old?"

"Eighteen. "

"Fuck."

There was a silence, and Ryan broke it when he said, "Does this mean the case is being kicked back to us?"

"No. Manhattan SVU is still going to be working their end of it. Benson and Rollins should be at the crime scene this morning. I want the two of you, as the primaries on our end of things, to do a thorough canvass of the area. The latest victim had just started college, lived in the same neighborhood as her parents."

"Did he take anything this time?"

"Her tongue was missing."

Elle swore, rubbed a hand down the side of her face. Cases involving kids were always the worst, and this one was bad enough already. She felt a little guilty that so much of her attention had been taken up with thoughts of her social life lately. Maye if she had been working the case a little harder, that girl might still be alive.

She and Ryan were leaving the building about twenty minutes later, and they drove in silence. He was fiddling with his engagement ring. The smell of the cold was still on their clothes.

"It's not your fault."

"No, of course not. I'll blame the mailman."

"You can't work all the time. No one can. We have to step away sometimes."

She didn't bother to answer that. Self-blame was a pattern for her, even though she knew it wasn't logical. They got stuck at a red light, and she tapped the steering wheel impatiently. 

There were people still milling around, techs and cops alike, when they arrived. Elle put on her game face as she got out of the car. She saw Amanda in the middle of a small knot of people, and a little against her will, she smiled a bit. Then covered the expression up before anyone could notice. This was no time to indulge her crush.

""What do we have?"

"Her name was Andrea Turnbull," Olivia said in a clipped voice. "We've interviewed her roommate and the guy who found the body. The EMTs are with him over there, creating him for shock."

The Brooklyn detective turned, saw a man in his early thirties sitting in the back of an open ambulance. The sun was trying to force its way through the cloud cover, with little success. "What does the M.E. say?"

"There was semen in her mouth. A sample was sent n to be tested. Her tongue was gone."

"Yeah, our Captain informed us.."

Liv noted the difference in Greenaway's demeanor, the businesslike approach, and added, "You and your partner can start with questioning the bystanders. A reporter tried to sneak past the crime tape, and was ejected. She's still lurking around here somewhere."

"All right. If she tries to get back on the scene, one of us will have her removed." The detail about the missing tongues was being kept from the press for the time being, Elle was thinking about Victor Kostichek. Would he be able to provide an alibi concerning his whereabouts once the time of death was established? Somehow, she doubted it.

Three hours went by, during which the detectives questioned people in the crowd and residents alike. They gleaned a few solid tips, and the unlucky civilian who'd discovered the body was given the okay to leave after taking a card in case he remembered anything. The reporter Olivia mentioned remained behind the yellow tape, but Ryan saw her speaking to several other officers and one of the emergency personnel. 

The four detectives re-convened near the edge of the scene once the initial canvass was complete, and they pooled their information in low voices. "We've put a rush on the semen sample," Amanda said. "If it's a match for the saliva from the last victim, we'll e able to narrow down the list of suspects."

The group broke up shortly after that, and Elle was about to head back to the car when she paused for consideration. "Detective Rollins, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," Amanda said, controlling the urge to smile because Liv was only a few feet away. It could be about work, after all. The blonde joined the other woman in a more private spot.

"Look, I've been thinking..."

Elle rubbed the back of her neck, looked over towards where Benson was standing with two uniformed officers. Ryan had returned to the car.She cleared her throat, started over.

"I think we shouldn't go out on that date."

Amanda frowned, and she darted a look in Liv's direction before making eye contact with Elle again. The other detective looked nervous, even uncomfortable. "Did she say somethin' to you?"

"No. No, it's not that. I started thinking about it, and I don't want to be an asshole."

"You don't want to go out with me?"

"No, I _do_ ," the brunette said with a shake of her head. "It's a little embarrassing how much, really. But I don't want to step on anybody's toes. It's bad karma."

Amanda ducked her head, and her hands disappeared into the pockets of her navy blue coat. She didn't want to be an asshole either, but she liked Elle and wanted to see if something was there or not. She liked Olivia too, and that had her conflicted, but there was no law that said she couldn't see both of them. She lifted her eyes from the toes of her shoes, smiled crookedly.

"I asked you out because I'm interested in you," she admitted. "Me and Liv are a separate thing, and we're under wraps for a reason. I can understand not wanting to...poach or something, and I don't want to make you feel like a bitch, but I _would_ like to see you. Whenever you think it's time for it."

Elle took mental stock of herself, all the reasons she shouldn't do this. The list was almost as long as the list of reasons she _wanted_ to do it. Ryan had a point, she couldn't work all the time. Living the job was what had burned her out before. She scuffed the toe of her shoe against the concrete, blew out a breath.

"I haven't gotten laid in two years," she said, and Amanda's cheeks turned pink at the bluntness. "And I think you're beautiful, but I don't want you to think that's all I'm interested in. I know how to keep my hands t myself, y'know?"

"But?"

"This case is making me feel shaky," the brunette said, and it took a second for that to parse. "It's making you want a drink?"

"I always want a drink. But yeah, this isn't helping."

Both of them looked around, surveying the scene with the eyes of people who had seen lots of horror. Elle breathed into the silence. Amanda looked up at the cloudy sky.

"We could go to a movie. Pool usually means a bar, and I don't want to...y'know."

She shouldn't. She wanted to. She shouldn't. "A movie sounds good."

"I'll find out what's playing, give you a call?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be great."

Amanda decided she was going to have to have a talk with Liv, straighten some things out before the situation got hopelessly tangled. She didn't want to be dishonest or sneak around. And it wouldn't be fair to Elle to drag her into something complicated, not if her sobriety might be threatened. Better to simplify things with a conversation before the knots got too tight.

"I'll call you."

The two of them parted ways, and Elle broke into a light jog on her way back to the car. She was nervous again, but this time with anticipation. If it came down to it, she and Benson could have a talk. She was going to e up front about her interest, at the same time making it clear that she wasn't trying to cause problems. Tings could proceed from there. The woman seemed reasonable enough, at least on the surface of it.

Starnes was already behind the wheel when she got into the vehicle, and he made a diplomatic noise when she shut the door. Elle fastened her seat belt.

"Is that her? She's pretty."

"Shut up and start the car," the brunette shot back. But she had to look out the window so she could hide the small smile.


	19. Chapter 19

Olivia had visited the Brooklyn station house off and on during her stint with SVU, but it was usually for professional reasons. She'd wanted to talk to Elle privately, set the record straight, and a semi-familiar environment might be the best option for that. The wind was up, and she hurried into the building.

There was the usual bustle going on inside, and Liv nodded at a few people she recognized. "Detective Benson?"

She turned, and Ryan Starnes was beckoning her towards his desk. "Is it about the last scene, did something break in the case?"

"No, actually, I wanted to talk to your partner about an unrelated matter."

"She's in with Marsden right now, but she should be out in a few minutes. If you want to wait, it shouldn't be long."

The Manhattan detective took the extra seat at Greenaway's desk, studied the workspace. A brown coat hung on the back of the chair. A shoulder holster, with the service weapon still in it, sat near the phone. Paperwork was stacked haphazardly in the 'out' box. No photos. Out of the corner of her eye, Olivia saw Elle step out of the Captain's office and approach the chair she was sitting in.

"Detective Benson."

"Detective Greenaway."

Elle had been waiting for this, and in fact was surprised that it had taken so long. Amanda's 'Did she say something to you?' was telling, and she could feel her back metaphorically arching in preparation forte other brunette to come at her right then and there. She had decided she was ready to take this risk, and while she didn't want to be an asshole, if it meant friction, so be it. She was no pushover, she was from _Brooklyn_.

"There's a conference room we can use. It's more private. I doubt either of us want to do this right here."

The quieter room was decorated almost identically to the one where Olivia worked, and Liv took a seat while Elle aligned her back with the wall. The silence lingered. Elle crossed one foot over the other. Olivia was looking for the least combative thing to say. Finally, the seated brunette blew out a breath.

"So. Amanda."

"Yeah. Amanda."

There was another chair at the table, and it scraped across the floor as Elle hooked it with one foot. Her Timberlands were old and battered but comfortable. She looked down at the scuffed toe of one of them, made eye contact after a minute.

"From what she tells me, you're not really her girlfriend. Now if she's not being honest about that, that's a different issue. I'd like to avoid insulting you if I can."

Olivia's lips quirked reluctantly. "I'm sure you know what a closed environment is like. The gossip and speculation. It's hard enough to have a relationship with someone who _isn't_ on the job. I spend most of my time around people I work with. I don't really want them knowing about my personal life too."

"Hey, I can understand that. It can be like living in a fishbowl, and in some ways it's worse than being back in high school. Cops gossip worse than old women." Elle remembered her reluctance to confess to her co-workers about her drinking problem, then decided that making the comparison wouldn't be appreciated. "But if I can say this without pissing you off, maybe she feels like you're hiding it for other reasons."

The other brunette could hear the attempt at diplomacy, and she replied, "I thought the way things were was okay with her. She never said there was a problem. She _hasn't_ said there's a problem, actually. All I know is, you're suddenly sniffing around."

"I'm not 'sniffing' anywhere," the Brooklyn cop answered, nettled. "If you'll recall, the last time she asked me for a date, not the other way around. Like I said, if I wanted to offend you, I'd have done it by now. Trust me, I'm not subtle."

Olivia's posture slumped a little, and then she sat up straight. As reluctant as she was to admit it, maybe Greenaway had a point. She'd allowed Alex's last departure to make her turn inward, even in intimate moments. If that was affecting things in the present, Elle wasn't _really_ being as much of an interloper as it might appear.

"So what do we do about it?"

"Well, what I'm gonna do is go out with her at least once. She asked and I said yes, and I'm not gonna back out of it. What _you're_ gonna do is kinda up to you. I'd suggest you talk to her, sit down the way we're sitting down. Who knows, things may not go anywhere with her. If she tells me to take a hike, I'm gone."

Elle hoped she meant that as boldly as it sounded. She'd spoken to her sponsor after she and Amanda firmed up their plans, and Karen had cautioned her to not leap into anything. Two years without intimacy was something that could be solved more easily than two years without needing to concern herself with someone else's thoughts and feelings because of a relationship. If she just wanted to get laid, that was the easy part. Getting invested emotionally was a different matter. If it didn't work out, there was the chance that her sobriety could be at risk.

Olivia couldn't help the frown. Who did this broad think she was, trying to dole out relationship advice? She barely knew Amanda, and she had zero idea of how things had been between them before this. Still, there was a kernel of truth to what she'd said. And Rollins had been the one to open the door a little wider. Maybe she should pay attention to that.

"Well, I appreciate your candor," she said, and the chair scraped backwards as she got up. "I'll talk to her. There's no reason this has to become ridiculous. We're all adults, we can work something out."

The other brunette pushed her chair back as well, and she said, "One thing the Program teaches is that communication is key. It keeps us honest. With nothing to hide, life gets a whole lot simpler."

'The Program'. AA? Liv's subconscious filed the information away for later study. It would hardly be uncommon, but she did wonder if Amanda knew. All that talk about no secrets was very nice, but everyone usually had _something_ to hide.

Elle saw the other detective out, and when she returned to her desk Ryan asked, "What was that all about? I thought the other one was your girlfriend."

"I don't have a girlfriend," the brunette replied, sitting down and starting in on the new batch of papers that had been deposited on the corner of her desk. More victim reports. The detective started poring over them, but not before her partner heard her add, "At least not yet."


	20. Chapter 20

"Can I come by? I think we need to talk."

No conversation Olivia had ever wanted to have started with 'we need to talk', but hearing Amanda's voice over the phone was such a relief that she almost didn't care what the blonde said. The snow had finally melted after a slight spike in the temperature, and what remained was filthy with soot and littered with trash. The detective opened her fridge, looked inside. She had a couple of beers and some soda. 

"Where are you?"

"Right outside your building, actually. Been sittin' here twenty minutes trying to work up the nerve to get out of the car."

Amanda sounded rueful, and Liv felt herself relax a notch. Good, she wasn't the only one dreading this. She went to the window, looked down at the street to see the other woman's car at the curb. "Come on up. I think we need to talk too."

The hallway was quiet when Amanda reached Liv's floor, and she rapped on the door, then waited for the muted 'come in' before twisting the knob. Liv was sitting on the couch, her feet tucked underneath her. The silence lingered, and finally they both started to speak at once.

"I wanted to say..."

"I don't think..."

Olivia laughed quietly, pushed her fingers through her hair as the other woman sat down. "Go ahead," Rollins said, and the older detective nodded. "I talked to Greenaway yesterday," she said. "Drove to Brooklyn just to do it. We had an actual conversation."

Amanda swore she could hear a 'but' in there somewhere, but she waited for the brunette to continue. She hadn't come here to argue, just to talk things out. This, whatever it was, mattered to her, and she wanted to hang onto it if she could. "What did she say?"

"She said she was going to keep that date with you. That you asked and she wanted to see it through." The older woman was studying her occasional lover, wondering if she had been too hesitant in the beginning. If she had been more open, would another person have become an issue? Or should Amanda have mentioned that she was planning to change the rules before she did it? She looked towards the window, out at the cold night beyond the glass. "She mentioned the Program. Did she tell you she's an alcoholic?"

"Yeah, she did. I offered her a beer or something stronger, and she told me she can't drink. I was embarrassed, almost fell on my ass apologizing. That was actually the night you called before comin' over."

"Mmm. And you think that's a safe option for you, a recovering dr-..." Olivia bit the word off without completing it. Amanda's eyebrows went up, and despite herself her temper spiked. She really _hadn't_ come over here to fight, but if Liv wanted to argue...

"Say it," she said evenly. "Call her what she is, call her an alkie. She didn't _have_ to tell me, but she did because I was the moron who asked her if she wanted some booze." The blonde had scooted to the far end of the couch, arms folding across her breasts. She hated being defensive, but Elle wasn't present to defend herself. "It's not like I don't have my own issues with bein' hooked on something."

Olivia rubbed her forehead, replying, "All right, I'm not trying to pick a fight. But addiction _is_ powerful, no matter the habit."

"She has a sponsor, talks to her on the regular. The sponsor was the one who told her not to get too invested just yet, to take things really slowly. It's _one_ date, Liv, we're not gonna run off to Vegas and exchange rings."

"So where does that leave us?"

The brunette was a little afraid to ask the question, and even more wary of the answer. Amanda broke the eye contact, some of the annoyance disappearing from her expression. When she spoke again, her tone had changed. "I don't know. I'm not exactly experienced at this. And maybe I'm just flattered. She told me she hasn't had a date since she sobered up. Even if it's just because I seem like the safe choice, it's nice to know I'm wanted, y'know?"

" _I_ want you." Olivia said it firmly, and it confirmed part of what she'd been worried about. "C'mon, you have to know that." 

The blonde's expression was dubious. "Is that why we're on the down-low? Hell, you were _right there_ when I asked her out, and all you did was glare. You could have said something."

And the brunette wanted to resort to sarcasm, to ask if she was expected to challenge Greenaway to a duel with pistols at dawn, but she knew the other woman was right. "Do you want to go out with her?" she asked after a brief silence, and after a few seconds Amanda nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. I don't know if what I'm having is actually a feeling or not. I don't want to stop seeing you, but I can't make that decision for you. I care about you, but I'm attracted to her."

Olivia felt as if the ground was sliding out from under her, and she looked down at her lap, where she'd folded her hands together. The silence lingered. The brunette looked over at the silent television. Felt resentment and sadness simultaneously.

"It's not fair for you to change the rules, Amanda. Not without warning me first."

The younger woman looked away, because Liv was right, she _was_ altering the way they'd done things before. And maybe it was even more unfair to drag Elle into it. But Amanda was trying not to second-guess herself. If she turned out to be wrong, she would deal with the consequences. She looked at the older woman, scooted towards her on the sofa. Olivia looked up, and her brown eyes were soft.

"I can stay or I can go. Whatever you want."

The logical thing would have been to tell Amanda to leave, that they both needed to think. To figure out what to do next. But Liv had never been very good at being noble. She took the blonde's hand, brought it to her left breast and held it there.

"Stay."


End file.
